


Feathers and Stars

by SarahJaneS



Series: Angel Wing [5]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angelic Grace, Angst and Fluff and Smut, Bathing/Washing, Castiel/Dean Winchester Wing Kink, Dean Has A Wing Kink, Fluff and Smut, Gay Male Character, Gay Sex, Grace Kink, Grace Sharing, Grace-Powered Orgasms, M/M, Outdoor Sex, PWP without Porn, Possessive Dean Winchester, Romance, Smut, Soul Sex, Wing Kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-23
Updated: 2015-08-23
Packaged: 2018-04-16 18:15:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,217
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4635318
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SarahJaneS/pseuds/SarahJaneS
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean upsets Castiel when he is not considerate with his wings. As a result, Castiel has been avoiding him. Fortunately, Dean can be pretty smooth with his apology's and Castiel has some surprises of his own.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Feathers and Stars

          They had a fight. It was bound to happen, but of course it was Dean’s fault. Since their time together, with all the late night encounters and feathered embraces, Dean had been seeing Castiel’s wings more and more. So it shouldn't have surprised him as much as it did when he woke up one morning a few weeks ago, to Castiel standing in the kitchen of the bunker with his wings tucked neatly behind him.   
          "Cas put those away before Sam comes in here," Dean scolded because for whatever reason, he was protective of Cas's wings and really didn't want anyone including his brother to see them.   
            
Cas, lazily stirring a cup of coffee, looked over his shoulder and shot Dean an indifferent glance.  
          "Good morning, Dean," he said flatly and his feather's ruffled indignantly. Okay, maybe Dean was being a little rude. He could have had that come across a little more pleasantly but he was still getting used to seeing Cas this way in the morning.   
          Cas was taking to spending more time in the bunker and even finding outlandish excuses to sleep there overnight. Not that Dean was complaining. He would have had Cas move in ages ago but life just kept getting in the damn way. He just wished that Cas would either go ahead and move in already or stop with the excuses. He didn’t know what Cas was waiting for.  
          "Look," Dean said, feeling mildly irritated, "I am sorry things didn't work out last night. It got late, I was interrogating some baddies, I conked out as soon as I got home. If you want to cuddle after breakfast, I'm all for it, but put the wings away."  
          "Hey guys," Sam said, shuffling half asleep into the room. Dean glanced at his brother and then stared at Cas who was looking at him like _he_ just sprouted wings. Sam walked over to where Castiel stood and reached for the pot of coffee.   
          Dean gasped and Sam turned to look at him curiously.   
          "Something wrong?" He asked and Dean smiled weakly.   
          "No. I just realized Cas is using my favorite mug." Sam glanced at Cas, who has not shifted his big blues one iota away from Dean's face, shrugged, and went back to preparing his coffee. It just so happened that he was standing directly in Castiel's left wing. Just standing there, completely oblivious, while long luscious black feathers enveloped him on all sides. Why has Dean never tried that? He could only imagine how wonderful it would feel. But that wasn't the point. The point was wings! And Sam not even realizing he's standing smack dab in the middle of them! Something was definitely up. And Cas would not stop with the staring!  
          "Notice anything unusual Sam?" Dean asked and Sam turned around to lean on the countertop, fresh coffee in hand.  
          "What, do you mean like cold spots? Sulfur smells?"  
          "Feathers?" Dean asked and Cas's sudden sharp intake of breath caused both hunters to look at him.   
          "I...I have to go," Castiel said urgently and he dashed out of the room before taking off into the sky. 

          Later that week, Dean was taking a shower; washing off the day’s grime from some brush he had to clear around the exhaust vents of the bunker, when he turned to see Castiel standing there. In the shower. Fully dressed and fully winged just staring at him. He looked pretty hot, Dean gave him that, but he also looked incredibly creepy.  
          “Uh…Cas, if you wanted a show all you had to do was ask,” Dean said and then watched as Cas’s eyes threated to swallow the rest of his face. His mouth dropped open and he just…stared.   
          “Cas?” Dean asked, unsure what was going on with his angel. He reached out to touch Castiel and he flittered off without a word. “Fuck. Cas! Come on!” No answer.  
          This bizarre behavior had Dean’s thoughts spinning like a whirlwind and by the time night had fallen, that whirlwind had kicked up into a full scale tornado. Cas was acting like an idiot. If he would just talk to Dean and explain what the hell was going on with him instead of running to places unknown the second Dean sees him…and now that night had fallen Dean _expected_ him to make an appearance. He _always_ came at night. Even those nights where Dean was already drunk, exhausted, or otherwise passed out, he would wake up the next morning to clothing removed that he didn’t remove himself and blankets tucked around him that he didn’t even bother to pull back before throwing himself in bed.   
          But that night it was edging on midnight and still no Cas. He decided that this was going to end and it was going to end right now.  
          “Cas! Get your feathery ass down here,” Dean announced and then waited. At first Cas didn’t come, and Dean was about to get really pissed, but then the telltale flap of wing from behind him seemed to loosen something that was squeezing tight on Dean’s chest.   
          He would be loathed to admit it, but he always had this fear that Cas was going to go away again. It has been plaguing him since the start of their relationship. Or whatever the hell everyone wanted to call it. Regardless, knowing Cas was there; right there where Dean could see him, made him feel at peace. He turned, and looked at his angel, sulking and frowning in the corner of his bedroom.   
          Cas was obviously disgruntled but Dean couldn’t understand why. He really just wanted to slam Cas against the wall and demand he explain himself. Maybe it would lead to some intense making out, but more likely it would just cause Cas to fly off again. So Dean steadied his breath and took a step towards Cas, palms outstretched, and charming half smile in place.  
          “Hey, Cas…where have you been all day?”  
          “Hiding,” Cas said simply. His voice sounded small, timid. He had his chin tucked down as though he were ashamed, and his eyes looked up at Dean through his lush dark lashes. Dean had an overwhelming desire to lift the angel’s chin and then pull him into a long lush kiss so they could just forget about all this nonsense. But he didn’t. He couldn’t if he ever expected them to step beyond this weird not-just-friends-but-not-quite-serious place, and he realized that he really did. Cas’s gaze dropped to the floor under his scrutiny and his wings trembled behind him.  
          “Why are you hiding Cas?” Dean asked. His voice tender and compelling. He took another step forward and Cas leaned against the wall. His wings shifted to press more flatly against him and the tufts at the tips of the wings quivered. Dean often wondered if that was a sign of anxiety or nervousness for him.  
          “Do you…do you see them Dean?” Castiel asked but he wouldn’t lift his head. He wouldn’t meet Dean’s eyes. Dean studied Cas a moment longer and then his eyes shifted upward to take in the great arc of his sloping wings. They were dusty, probably from all his hiding, and Dean thought it would be nice to help Cas preen again. There was something intimate about that. As though they were an old married couple, or something. Far too girly for Dean to ever admit out loud.  
          “Uh…yeah, Cas. I can see them,” Dean said instead and Cas let out a long shuddering breath and closed his eyes. “Cas, what is going on?” Dean tried again, barely keeping the annoyance out of his voice. Finally, Cas lifted his head to look at Dean. But with the sad look of loss in his eyes, Dean wasn’t sure it was such a good thing.  
          “You aren’t supposed to see them right now. I have them hidden. And earlier…all of me was hidden on an altered plane of existence and yet…you could see me.”  
          “So?” Dean asked confused, “So I can see your wings all the time. Why do you look like your dog just died?” Cas’s face fell a little and he turned his eyes away from Dean again. Idly, he reached out and gently ran fingertips down his left wing primaries.   
          “My wings are my own. Not my vessels, and I take pride in them. I want to be…presentable for you,” Cas said softly, and small spots of color started to spread high in his cheeks. “I only like for you to see them when they are at their best.” Sentiment swelled in Dean and he smiled broadly. He has seen Cas naked, disheveled, drunk, half asleep, and covered in grime in the depths of purgatory. Hell he has smelled Cas at his worst and Cas could say the same for Dean. They were past the level of vanity or modesty and yet, it was always Castiel’s vessel, wasn’t it? Apparently Cas thought a lot differently about his wings.  
          “Hey,” Dean said tenderly and he closed the distance between them. He reached out and let his fingers smooth down Cas’s flight feathers; causing him to shudder. “Don’t ever be ashamed of how you look around me, Cas. No matter if you’re dirty or covered in powdered sugar and sprinkles, I’m going to think you and your wings are the most beautiful thing I’ve ever laid eyes on.”   
          Cas looked at him again, his eyes a little less forlorn, and a small smile teased at his lips. Dean let go of Cas’s feathers and brought his fingertips up to trace the ridge of Castiel’s jaw. Leaning in, he savored the sweet tang of the angel’s soft lips.   
          “I guess I can no longer watch you in the shower,” Cas said sadly when Dean pulled away and Dean couldn’t help but laugh.   
          “Oh you can watch me, you just have to be sneakier about it.” 

          Things seemed to be better between them after that, but it still took some getting used to. Seeing those glorious angel wings all the time proved to be a bit distracting. Dean would be standing next to Cas, talking to Sam, and all of a sudden his fingers would get little minds of their own and he would reach out to caress Cas’s feathers. Cas would yelp, a high pitched noise deep in his throat, and Sam would cut off mid-sentence to stare while Cas’s face burned with embarrassment.   
          Other times, Dean would notice a patch of feathers that seemed disheveled, or he would see a feather sticking out and bent, and Dean would lean into Cas and just start grooming him.   
          The one time especially, they were sitting in a diner when Dean noticed a feather jutting out from Cas’s right wing and he leaned over to pluck it away. The instant the feather left the wing it dissolved into a swirl of Grace that seeped back into its host, but that was nothing new for Dean. Clearing away the offensive quill, he smoothed the surrounding feathers down. He then traced his fingers over Cas’s oil gland before running the oil through the feathers until they shined. Content, Dean returned to his cheeseburger only to find Sam staring at him with utter confusion. Castiel’s face was on fire, staring at the table like he wanted to burn a hole through it, and his knuckles were white in his fists.  
          A different time, during a hunt that led them into an industrial bakery, Castiel was trying to hang back, let Dean and Sam do their thing, when he backed into a shelf and a sack of corn flour spilled down, covering his wings and head in white powder. The whole scene looked so Three Stooges that Dean lost it. He laughed so loud, the changeling they were tracking fled the building. So did Cas. After a long humiliated scowl at Dean, but Dean didn’t mind. That was definitely worth seeing.   
          Then came the day when Castiel had had enough. They were watching television in a shitty hotel in Cambridge. Sam and Dean were sharing a room which seemed to be happening less and less lately, but the pool game at the bar didn’t prove to be as productive as Dean had hoped so money was a little tight. Cas was sitting at the edge of Dean’s bed, still adorning his trench coat, and his wing’s spilled out across the bed behind him like a big black feathery invitation to touch.   
          Cas was into the show. _Really_ into the show. It was some Discovery crap about how God is actually an extra-terrestrial and as the show went on, Cas’s feathers started to rustle a little. His alula’s, those lovely tufts of feather at the arches of his wings that Cas said are used for steering and flight direction, were trembling like little vibrators. It was distracting and Dean’s eyes kept shifting to the wings instead of watching the television.   
          He sat up, moving closer to Castiel, but the angel was oblivious, only staring at the television; nostrils flaring, jaw set. It was in this moment Dean made his mistake. He felt…mischievous. He usually nurtured Cas’s wings; tended to them and kept them in good shape and while Cas seemed embarrassed by it sometimes, he tolerated it. But Dean had never actually…goosed Cas. That was what he had in his mind to do. He thought it would be loads of fun to just reach out, wrap his fingers around the closest alula, and give it a quick tug. And it was funny! For about two seconds. Cas jumped up, startled, and practically squawked in surprise. The noise he made, was so funny Dean fell on the bed laughing.  
          “Cas, are you okay?” Sam asked, about as startled as Cas was, but already the angel was rounding on Dean; his eyes ablaze with blue fire. Dean’s laughter died on his lips.   
          “Dean!” Cas shouted, his face red but either from embarrassment or anger, Dean couldn’t tell.  
          “Hey, sorry Cas, I was just playing around,” Dean said, sitting up and chuckling nervously. Cas wasn’t having it. Maybe it was the show that had him in such a sour mood, or maybe it was just that enough was enough. Cas leaned over, slapping the mattress with his hands, and a sudden crack alerted Dean that Cas had snapped the bedframe in two. Dean’s mattress tumbled to the floor with Dean on top of it. He looked over, saw the splintered wood of the motel bedframe beside him on the floor, and when he looked up again to try to talk some sense into Cas, the angel was gone.   
          “You did it this time,” Sam said, glaring over at him, and Dean blew out a breath through his pouted lips.   
          It turned out Sam was right. Dean really did it this time. Three days passed after that night with the bed frame and still no sign of Cas. Dean prayed to him, called him on his phone, apologized about a hundred times over, but no Cas. He didn’t like the drop feeling in his stomach. It felt like all his fears were coming true just as he dreaded they would. Cas was leaving him again. He was losing yet another person that he loves. Dean tried to ignore the way his chest felt like someone was squeezing it constantly.   
          It was on the fourth day that Dean turned to Sam in desperation. He found his brother sitting with his laptop looking for possible leads to a new hunt when Dean plopped down next to him and sighed. Sam glanced up at his brother warily, his eyebrows turned up and his eyes suspicious.  
          “Sam…I need help,” Dean said and Sam scoffed.   
          “I knew this was coming,” he mumbled but Dean wouldn’t let himself get flustered. He needed to make things right with Cas and if anyone was good at diplomacy it was Sam.  
          “I don’t know how to get him to talk to me again. And I know he’s not sticking around here spying on us so I worry that he might not come back at all,” Dean said and his eyes suddenly stung. It seemed like as soon as he opened his mouth, all the words came out like diarrhea and left a big old girly stink all over their laps. “I think I really messed things up with him this time and I didn’t mean to. I’m so worried he’ll never talk to me again and I can’t…I just can’t…” Dean snapped his jaw shut before he started blubbering. He glanced at Sam to see his brother was leaning away from him. The expression plastered on his face saying ‘who are you and what have you done with my brother?’ Slowly, his face relaxed a bit when he realized Dean wasn’t going to start wailing, and he settled more comfortably in his seat.   
          “Why don’t you start by explaining to me what you even did because I’m at a loss,” Sam said and Dean sighed.   
          “I can see his wings now, Sammy. Like, all the time,” Dean said and Sam nodded slowly.  
          “Ah. That explains the weird hand motions in the air thing I always see you do,” Sam observed and Dean nodded forlornly in return.  
          “They’re so beautiful, Sammy. I miss seeing them. I miss him.” Dean could feel it again: that sting in his eyes. That burning in his chest. He coughed to try to hide the wateriness of his voice. It was allergies. He was allergic to dust or something.  
          “Okay, so what happened at the motel the last time we saw him? Why did he break the bed?” Sam asked and Dean winced. He dropped his head shamefully and stared at his hands, loosely clasped between his legs.   
          “I goosed him,” he muttered and Sam leaned in, straining to here.  
          “Come again?” he asked and Dean signed.  
          “Goosed him. You know, pinched his butt? Except…well I tugged at his feathers instead. Some particularly sensitive feathers. And well…you saw the rest.” Sam just stared. His mouth was slightly parted and with such a blank look on his face that Dean shoved him.   
          “Hey!” Sam squealed.  
          “Stop staring at me like that,” Dean grumbled. Feeling pretty damn stupid.  
          “I just…I don’t know what to say. Why would he break the bed over a goosing?” Sam asked and Dean looked at him. Actually, that was a pretty good question. Dean was just playing around. He made that pretty clear to Cas. So…why the big show of angel might? Sam could read the blank expression on Dean’s face like a book.  
          “I think this is what you need to figure out, Dean. But really think about it. And don’t get angry.”  
          “Yeah,” Dean said, half distracted, and then nodded to his brother before getting to his feet. “Thanks, Sammy.” 

          Dean thought about Cas a lot over the next two days. He thought about what Cas had said about his wings and how he was kind of self-conscious about them, and it didn’t take Dean long to realize he’s been a bit of an ass. The problem was what to do about it? He liked having interactions with Cas’s wings. It was the only connection he had directly to Cas himself instead of his vessel, and the grooming was comforting to him. Okay so yes, Castiel tolerated the grooming. It was the teasing he didn’t like. Dean got that now.   
          He realized that he needed to find a way to apologize properly. Saying the words and not really understanding what he was apologizing for didn’t seem to satisfy the angel this time. He wasn’t going to go running to Sam for advice again. He could be thoughtful when he absolutely had to be. It was just easier to repair a girl’s car or repair an angel’s wing than it was to actually put thought and effort into something seriously special. But Dean was in no way a quitter. Fuck no. So when he wasn’t thinking about Cas, he was thinking about ways to apologize properly. Eventually, he came up with an idea. 

          “Cas,” Dean said allowed, closing his eyes, “I need to talk to you. Please come here.” Opening his eyes again, he looked out across the water and waited. Before, his celestial messages were halfhearted and mildly irritated. He didn’t really understand what he had done wrong. Now he does.   
          He hiked around the bunker for the better part of a day before he finally found the right spot. There was a small clear lake about a mile away from their hideout that seemed too remote to attract any sort of public attention, but had the perfect view overlooking the west bank. Of course finding the location was just the start. Dean hoped the rest of it was worth it.   
          “Dean,” came Castiel’s soft raspy voice, low and cautious, and Dean turned to see Cas standing behind him. He looked sullen and hurt. Well, shit.  
          “Cas…come here. Sit with me,” Dean offered. Cas took a deep breath, shaking his head, looking like he was about to object, but Dean wouldn’t have it. “Look, Cas. I messed up. I really messed up. Can you please let me apologize to you?”  
          “You already apologized to me,” Cas said softly. His eyes guarded and uncertain.   
          “No, those were word, Cas. And I get it now. Words aren’t enough sometimes. So come sit down. Please.” Dean gestured to the empty space on the coarse wool blanket he had spread across a pallet on the ground and slowly, Castiel walked over and sat on the very edge of the blanket square. Dean would have liked him a hell of a lot closer, but it was a start.   
          Dean glanced over and admired the way Castiel’s wings tucked behind him, folding to the side against the earth. Dean quelled the desire to reach out and sink his fingers into that blacken silk. He hadn’t earned the right. Not yet.   
          “It’s pretty here,” Cas mused and Dean looked out across the water to where the sun slowly crept towards the horizon.   
          “Yeah, that’s why I chose this spot. For you.” Cas turned to Dean meeting his eyes, and he no longer looked hurt but instead curious; confused. “Cas…” Dean swallowed and looked away. He hated girly shit. “Cas, I’m sorry. I wasn’t really thinking about what I was doing and…I don’t know, I guess I crossed some boundaries. I have been thinking about it a lot though. About you.” Dean took a deep breath to steady his nerves and then got to his feet.   
          “I thought about what I could do to make it up to you,” Dean said as he walked over to a small pack he had propped against a nearby tree. “You don’t eat; molecules and all that, so I couldn’t really cook for you.” Tugging the bag open, Dean pulled out a small basin and pitcher, towels, and a long bottle of liquid. “I couldn’t buy you a gift, I mean, what would an angel do with a giant teddy bear?” Bringing the contents back to the blanket, Dean kneeled at Castiel’s feet.  
          “So I went back to the big book. Old Testament style. And looked at ways people showed appreciation back in your glory days. Then I got an idea.” Dean opened the bottle and emptied the contents into the pitcher.   
          “Dean,” Cas whispered, but he said no more and Dean was grateful. He felt kind of stupid but this also felt right. This was what he needed to do. Dean reached out, eyes on his work, and pulled off Cas’s shoes. He tugged at the socks after, and realizing Cas was letting him go through with it, Dean felt a little better about his purpose.   
          “I know I shouldn’t have laughed at you. Or tugged on your wings when you weren’t expecting me to,” Dean said and he poured some of the liquid into the bowl. It was rose and lavender oil mixed with holy water. He thought the holy water was a nice touch. “But those times when I was pulling out loose feathers or grooming you in some other way…it made me happy to do that. It felt like I was doing something for you after all you have done for me.” Dipping a cloth into the oily mixture, Dean brought it to Cas’s feet and started to wash them in gentle long strokes. Of course Cas really didn’t need his feet washed, but there was more to the act then simple cleaning. It was symbolic to unity. To companionship.   
          “I like when you groom my wings too, Dean,” Cas said a little breathy, “just not in public.”   
          “Yeah. I get that. I was an ass. Sorry, Cas.” Dean mumbled but he wouldn’t look at Cas. He just dipped his washcloth and started on the other foot.  
          “That smells good,” Cas whispered and Dean nodded. It did smell pretty good actually. Nothing artificial or overpowering. Just a fresh flower scent. The sun crept lower, slicing blades of light against the trees behind them. “Dean…will you…wash the rest of me?” Cas asked and Dean lifted his eyes in surprise.  
          Cas had fallen back, propping himself against his elbows, and his wings fanned out behind him. His eyes were hooded, his lips slightly parted and wet from him licking at them, and his chest heaved with the staccato of his breaths. Fuck.   
          Dean wasn’t going to lose his cool. Cas was obviously on the fast track to forgiveness and if he wanted a full body wipe down, Dean was definitely down for that. Leaning over Cas, Dean let his slippery fingers work at Cas’s belt and fly, and Cas took this as a sign they were all go. He sat up and pulled at his jacket, his coat, and by the time Dean was tugging his pants and shorts over his hips, Cas was completely naked. Holy hell if it wasn’t a sight to see. Cas, settling back on his elbows, looked shamelessly down at Dean while his wings fanned out on the blanket behind him like a cover of black down. Dean’s mouth felt dry.   
          Not saying a word, feeling his voice might spoil the breathtaking vision before him, Dean rested back on his knees and reached for his cloth. Slowly, he worked the flower oil and water up Cas’s legs, his thighs, and Castiel hummed appreciatively as he closed his eyes and tilted back his head. Dean edged closer on his knees, crossing onto the blanket, and Cas bent his legs so that his thighs draped over Dean’s.   
          It felt very sexual and yet it wasn’t sexual at all. Cas wasn’t hard, he was just unabashedly naked. And he was smiling so beautifully, Dean bit at his lip to keep him focused. He wanted to pant. He wanted to take Cas in his mouth and make his moan Dean’s name. Cas might not be hard, but Dean definitely was. He had a feeling it wasn’t about that for Cas. He just was reveling in this new type of grooming. This strange companionship between them. It didn’t matter. Either way, Dean was just clinging to control.   
          Dean leaned in, his cloth as sodden as his fingers, and ran his hands up Castiel’s body. He worked the oil into his stomach, and swiped gently at his ribs. His fingers danced over Cas’s tattoo, a testament to his time as a human, and wiped his cloth across the firm planes of his chest. Castiel moaned softly and lifted his head to look into Dean’s eyes. The sun took this opportunity to dip enough to catch the tips of Castiel’s wings and Dean gasped. The light refracted against his feathers like a prism and kaleidoscoped rainbows against the trees surrounding them.   
          “Cas! Your wings!” Dean exclaimed and Cas glanced over his shoulder to see the sun on his top feathers. Looking back down at Dean, he smiled shyly. He pulled away, lifting his legs off of Dean, and Dean sat back to watch as Castiel got to his feet.   
          Castiel turn to look down at Dean; standing over him. His body, naked and glistening with holy water and flower oil, appeared to be chiseled from marble as opposed to flesh. Letting his smile spread over his face, Castiel snapped his wings open to their full length behind him. Any words Dean might have had died on his tongue. Any thought beyond utter awe fled from his mind. Those amazing obsidian wings drowned in the pink hues of the setting sun. They pulled at the light, bending it, shaping it, and casting it out so that Dean’s world was drowned in splashes of rainbow. His eyes danced around the clearing in the forest and out past the lake as colors and light blended and shifted in a cacophony of patterns. It was breathtaking. It was awe inspiring. And it all was bred from the magic and Grace in Castiel’s wings. Dean turned to look back up at his angel. Castiel had his lips pressed together in a thin line and his feathers trembled against the sunlight. He looked so proud and yet so vulnerable at the same time.  
          “God Cas,” Dean said softly, looking into those eternal blue eyes, “you’re so beautiful.” Castiel’s face fell to tears and he covered his eyes with his hands. Dean got to his feet and pulled Cas towards him. He wrapped his arms around Cas, and leaned him into a hug.  
          “Shush, Cas. Don’t cry. Why are you upset, huh?” His voice cooed as he gently ran a finger against Cas’s cheek; catching his tears.  
          “I just…I want you to always look at me this way,” Cas said weakly; his cheeks flushed. He bit at his knuckle and kept his eyes on ground. His wings, trembling and suddenly timid, drooped against his back once more. It amazed him to see how Cas could be so shamelessly open about his vessel’s nudity but so horribly sensitive and insecure about his wings.   
          Dean lifted Castiel’s chin and pulled him into a kiss. He was gentle, caressing; showing Cas through his actions just how much he loved his angel, but it wasn’t long before his kisses grew deeper. His tongue more exploratory. Tasting Cas and pulling him closer so that their bodies connected the way their mouths did. Dean drew away; trailing nips down Cas’s neck with his teeth and Castiel gasped, leaning into his mouth.   
          “Dean…I missed you so much, Dean,” Castiel breathed and Dean pulled away looking at him.   
          “I missed you too, Cas,” Dean said and tugged his shirt over his head, “but I’m glad you stayed away actually. It gave me time to think of what’s important to me. It made me realize how little I was showing you my appreciation of you.” Cas smiled, a bittersweet expression, and Dean stepped away. Glancing over his shoulder, he saw the sun was out of sight now, the world around them falling into a place after dusk but just before full nightfall. “Lay down,” Dean said softly and then turned towards the woods.   
          “Dean?” Cas called after him, but he laid down on his side across the blanket.   
          It apparently took a lot of thought to run extension cords for over a mile. There were things like voltage drop and moisture seepage that had to be taken into account. Dean made it a point to get LED lights instead of the standard Christmas kind because he wanted to be sure they didn’t short circuit the second he plugged the damn things in. _That_ would be embarrassing. He checked them a few times, including right before he prayed for Castiel to come see him, and he would be royally pissed at the world and everything in it if they failed him now.   
          Finding the heavy industrial extension cord plug, Dean leaned over, and plugged in the narrow green cord from the first string of lights. Great thing about Christmas lights is how they all connect with each other. You plug one in and all of a sudden you got a long snake of illuminating white. When Dean plugged in the lights, and the world around them came alive. Behind him, he could hear Cas gasp in surprise and he smiled. It was ironic how Cas gave him a light show, and now he was giving one back.   
          Dean returned to the clearing to see Cas sitting up, his head craned to the trees. Dean thought it would look cool at night but he hadn’t realized it would turn out just as cool as it had. He climbed a lot of the trees to get the lights where he did. He tucked them here and there taking great care in not showing any obvious cords. It took hours. Many hours. But damn if it wasn’t breathtaking.  
          “Dean!” Cas said and he turned to look at the hunter with his eyes bright and wide in wonder. “What is this, Dean?”  
          “My apology,” Dean said with a nervous shrug. “Or the rest of it, I guess.”  
          “It’s beautiful,” Cas said, his face alit with wonder, and Dean felt warmth in the pit of his stomach.   
          “I know,” Dean whispered but he wasn’t looking at the lights. His eyes were only for Castiel. Dean crossed the clearing and kicked off his shoes before stepping onto the blanket. He dropped down behind where Castiel was sitting and slowly, hesitantly, brushed his fingers along Castiel’s covert feathers. Cas leaned into the touch, welcoming his affection and Dean sighed in relief. Forgiveness found.   
          Dean let his fingers trail along the broad arches of Cas’s wings and ran the feathers of his primaries though the circle of his lose fist. He could see some places where a feather needed plucked or a sticky patch needed cleaned, but Dean cataloged those for later. He didn’t want to spoil the mood by launching into house-keeping. It would shame Cas to think that he wasn’t good enough as he was and he would take it very personally. Dean realized that now.   
          Leaning over, Dean rested his nose against the base of Cas’s wing, near where his oil gland was, and breathed in his scent deeply. Cas gasped softly at the intimacy of the contact, and Dean’s hand snaked around him. Pulling him close; drawing him in. His tongue trailed up Cas’s back, licking at his nape and then biting there softly; claiming what was his in the most primal of ways, and Cas let his head fall back, leaning into Dean’s shoulder. Dean pulled him closer, a hand to his throat, and captured Cas’s lips once more. The angel’s hands rose up; craning behind him, and ran fingers through Dean’s hair. Dean moaned softly, humming against Castiel’s lips, and the angel pulled away to twist his body around, facing Dean on his knees.   
          Cas rocked into him, his cock now thick and red against Dean’s hip, and Cas worked to get his pants unbuttoned.   
          “How do you want me, Cas? However you want me. Whatever you want. I’ll give it to you,” Dean said, his voice urgent, his breath short. Cas looked up at him, his eyes wide and shadowed against the small lights in the trees.   
          “I want…I want to feel your soul, Dean,” Castiel whispered and a small chill slipped down Dean’s spine. He had no idea what that meant, but he trusted Cas. He loved Cas.   
          “Anything,” Dean whispered in return and Cas pulled him down, laying him on his back while the angel worked his pants down over his hips and sat on top of him. Their dicks nested together in a way that so familiar to them now and Dean resisted the urge to just take them in his fist and start pumping. This night was about Castiel, not him.   
          Leaning over, Cas brought his lips tenderly to Deans, just for a moment, then he drew away again. Hovering just above him, looking deep into his eyes, Cas spread his wings wide behind them and then gently dropped them down to canopy them both in a cocoon of black. Dean’s eyes marveled at the way the tiny tree lights seeped through areas of the feathers. It was like he was nested inside his own personal starlit sky. Leaning close again, Cas tipped his head to so that his forehead connected with Dean’s and he closed his eyes. Hesitantly, Dean did the same.  
          Feeling Cas close, in the warm shroud of his wings, Dean felt safe, protected, and utterly at peace. He wanted to speak. He wanted to call out to Cas and tell him how special he was; how wonderful he smelled; how the feel of his cock still rubbing slowly against Deans was making him lightheaded with longing, but everything between them seemed holy. It seemed otherworldly. He felt it would be criminal to speak.  
          Then something bloomed inside him. He wanted to open his eyes to look at Cas, but he couldn’t move. He couldn’t think. Cas was there, somewhere deep within him, he could feel Cas burning like a candle in a moonless night.  
          _Cas!_ He felt his breath catch. He was spinning into the abyss; falling, and only the anchor of their bodies; of the pleasure radiating through them kept him on the ground. For he could _feel_ Cas’s pleasure. He could sense it like it was his own; echoing back to him, redoubling. Growing.   
          Dean groaned. He couldn’t help it. Fuck but if this wasn’t the most amazing thing he ever felt. It was beyond his comprehension, and yet…  
          Dean lifted his hand, fingers outstretched, and pulled softly at Castiel’s feathers. The result was an explosion of pinpricks along his spine and Dean groaned again; lifting his hips off the ground and grinding himself against Cas. Fuck that felt good.  
          “Dean!” Cas panted and his voice was a wreck. He was beyond comprehension. Dean could feel how far gone he was. The sensation of his wings; of Dean tugging on them harder and harder, played against both Grace and soul as the sensation of their cocks threaded a different type of ecstasy between the cords of resonating bliss. Their bodies rocked and shifted, rubbing scent and sweat and need into each other as their minds spiraled along the abyss in unison; forming a tapestry between them.   
          _Oh, Cas._ Dean never knew he could feel this level of connection with anyone let alone an angel but there it was. A feeling beyond any comprehension of love. Beyond words known to humankind.   
          Castiel shifted away from Dean, freeing his hand, and reached behind his back to dip his fingers into the rich heady oil of his uropygial gland. Dean could feel in his mind what Cas’s intentions were. He did the same, collecting oil into his hand, and when his finger brushed against the tender flesh of the gland, both men moaned at the wave of intensity that flooded into them. Echoing, echoing, spiraling into the abyss. How can Cas stand it? When Dean touches him there how can he even breathe?  
          Dean retracted his hand, and slid the oil over the length of his dick.  
          “Dean…Dean…” Cas panted as he worked himself open with his fingers. He never lifted his head; never severed the connection, and Dean had the odd sensation of feeling the unique pleasure of both of them mingling as one. The sensations added to the canopy, escalating them higher and higher with a type of carnal bliss Dean had not known was possible before that moment.   
          Cas was ready. Dean knew he was ready just as he knew his pleasure. His longing. His desperate love. The way that Cas felt like it was never enough; nothing was ever enough. He wanted more and more of Dean. Consuming, completing, converging in an ocean of tapestry. A never ending sea of ecstasy and togetherness.   
          Cas shifted, craning his hips forward, and he pulled his fingers away. Silently, Dean lifted the steel of his cock in his hand, and Cas lowered himself to slip Dean into him. When his entrance opened, giving way to the man, both angel and hunter shuddered at the sensation. There were no words. No words.   
          Together in body, together in mind, together in spirit, Dean rocked into Cas. Working himself deeper, pushing harder, knowing when it was too much; sensing it in his mind when Cas wanted more. And suddenly he was there, in the place Castiel most wanted him to be, rocking gently into that spot that exploded like fireworks inside Cas’s mind and both men lost themselves to the sensation.   
          Cas’s wings trembled and shuddered, and Dean gripped them firmly as he thrusted hard into his angel.   
          “Dean!” Castiel gasped, his pleasure overwhelming them both, “My love…my Dean…oh!” Castiel came as his breath exited him in a long groan that Dean lifted his chin and took into his mouth. The orgasm reverberated inside him; far too intense, and Dean turned his head away; breaking the connection between them as he released in turn; long and hard inside Castiel.   
          “Fuck, Cas!” Dean cried out, feeling his dick pump reflexively and the last throes of his orgasm seep into his muscles turning them to jello. He opened his eyes and all he could see were feathers and stars. “Fuck, what was that?” his chest heaved as he strained to catch his breath and Cas leaned close, swimming into his blurry vision, and smiled.  
          “Amazing,” was all Cas said and his teeth nipped at Dean’s lower lip.   
          “Fuck,” Dean said again, not very lyrical in his vocabulary for the moment, and Cas pulled away, letting Dean slip out of him, as he got to his feet. Dean watched while he walked in lazy circles, stretching his arms, flapping his wings, and then he turned and looked down; smiling at Dean.   
          “You’ve been holding out on me,” Dean said, realizing just what they were capable of and Cas laughed. Cas actually _laughed_. Dean never seen him so amazingly happy.   
          “I was afraid you would reject the bond. That I wasn’t a good enough suitor for you. Because you haven’t asked me to cohabitate with you yet. I guess I was being foolish,” he said with a shrug. Dean let out a long sigh. Yet again, he was waiting for Cas to make the first move when he should have made it ages ago.   
          “Cas, of course I want you to come live with me. I’m sorry I didn’t say so sooner. But…we’ll be doing that again, right?” Dean asked, reaching out; compelling Cas to him. Castiel dropped down to the blanket and slid against Dean.   
          “Absolutely,” he said in his low husky sex voice and Dean smiled. Curling up against each other, Dean leaned toward Castiel and kissed his collarbone; smelling the lavender and rose that still lingered there. Turning towards the sky, both men smiled while they watched a gentle breeze dance lights upon their own tapestry of trees.

**Author's Note:**

> I wanted this edition to explore Dean seeing Cas's wings all the time. Plus, I had a request in the comments of Flying Solo that involved a romantic date in the park. Well I wasn't sure how to do that in a public setting with wings and all so I put my own little spin on it. I know this is a lot of plot and not a whole lot of porn but I have discovered that if you have a progressive story, even a porny one, you HAVE to have a little plot or it just gets dull.  
> I hope you enjoyed!
> 
> Another little side note. I wrote this on the day (today) that Misha was robbed and assaulted. My feelings toward that whole even probably lent to why Castiel seemed so fragile and vulnerable in this story. Just roll with it.


End file.
